Drabblebots
by Dragon Ashes
Summary: Word of the Day one-shots. Latest: Viscid. All Roxanne wanted was dinner after a long day at work...
1. Copacetic

"Sir? Is there anything else you need?"

"No, Minion. Thank you."

Minion hesitated at the door. "Sir...?" It wasn't like him to use polite language.

"I...I'm fine, Minion. Just...go to sleep."

"Okay, sir..."

Minion adjusted his mechanical body in a corner of the warehouse and squeezed into his sleepy-house. Something mettalic groaned in the depths of the old warehouse, and Minion stifled the urge to double-check to make sure his master was safe. The battle with Titan (or was it Tighten?) had done a number on him, despite his protests otherwise. That was the only reason they hadn't brought up the argument from the night before in greater detail.

Hard to believe that less than 24 hours ago, he had been curled up next to an old TV in one of their amandoned lairs. Less than a day ago, his master had disowned his entire _life_ to pursue a charming young woman who had, by all accounts, ruthlessly torn out his heart and stomped on it with a spiked high heel less than two hours later. Megamind really did have the worst luck. At least Miss Ritchie didn't hate the man entirely...not enough that she wanted him dead. It was unfortunate, Minion thought, that the one person Megaind cared for more than anything (he gritted his pointed teeth; that thought would NOT hurt) had no interest in him as himself.

"Minion...?"

He was up in an instant. He'd forgotten that Miss Ritchie knew where the Lair was. "Here, Miss Ritchie."

"Where's Megamind? I looked -"

"He's asleep." Minion didn't mean the comment to come out as harshly as it did. His visitor flinched, but the earlier anger had returned. "How may I help you?"

"I..."

Minion readjusted his stance to get a better look at Miss Ritchie. Her makeup was smudged, where it hadn't been rubbed off entirely. Her hair was rumpled out of control of her extra-strength hair spray that had always held through the most...exciting kidnappings. She was still wearing her blue dress, now torn and dusty. Pieces of rubble and building fragments clung to the ruffle around the hem.

"Are...you okay, Miss Ritchie?"

To his horror, the young woman seemed to crumple in on herself. She didn't sob, exactly; she just collapsed in a rumpled heap and vented out the stress of the day.

"Miss Ritchie!"

"I...I'm fine, Minion."

"I've heard that one before. Now...what's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"Just...stressed..." She trailed off with an ungainly sniffle. Minion had never seen Miss Ritchie cry before. "I...it's just...he was _dead_. Dead...all my fault..."

Ah. That was understandable. Minion tried to keep his mind clinical, angry...and failed. He couldn't cry, per se - it was a biological impossibility - but the gut-wrenching _knowing _and _understanding _and _pain _was the next best thing. "He's...okay, Miss Ritchie. He'll be fine."

"But...but he was thrown into a _wall_. He hit his _head!_ on a _building!_ And he was already injured before...before he found me!"

Tears overflowed again, and Minion found himself far out of his depth. "Er...Miss Ritchie? Do you want to sit down? The couch is very...soft..."

He retrieved a blanket from a dusty corner, where it had been used to cover a set of mechanical spy-mice. They scattered in the dim light that filtered in through the windows from the one street lamp that hadn't been shot out. He'd retrieve them later. When he returned, Miss Ritchie had managed to drag herself onto the couch, still half flopped over. She accepted the blanket gratefully; the Lair was too cold and damp to be comfortable for most people. Minion really didn't understand humans' climate preferences.

"He...he's hurt." It was a statement.

"Yes."

"It's my fault."

"Not...not really. He's been through worse...we were _expecting_ worse, if things went badly. But Titan's gone, you're unhurt, and Sir...he'll recover."

Miss Ritchie tucked her chin behind her knees, buried in the folds of the blanket. "Can I...see him, please? I know I don't have any right to ask, after how I...after what I said to him, but...please?"

Minion hesitated, but nodded. Megamind's room was a bit warmer, anyways. He led the way through the maze of old pieces of machinery and abandoned plans to the spiked door covered in blue spray-paint graffiti and tacked-up bits of technical diagrams. A few sticky notes, their stickyness long gone, fluttered as the pair walked by.

The door was slightly squeaky - a defense mechanism, subtle enough to seem accidental - but Minion was able to pull up and back at _just_ the right angle to minimize the noise. Miss Ritchie approached the bed with short, shy steps, as if fully aware of her intrusion in such a personal space. And yet...as she leaned over the bed, one hand hovering above a shoulder-shaped lump under the covers, there was a depth of tenderness and sorrow that even Minion could feel.

Miss Ritchie backed away abruptly. "I'll go, now," she whispered. "I just needed to see...to make sure he was okay."

Then her foot hit the squeaky floor tile between the bed and the door, and the figure on the bed groaned. "...Minion?" He sat up and turned, his eyes widening at the figure frozen guiltily in the middle of his bedroom floor. "_Roxanne?_"

The pair stared at each other for a moment, then - to Minion's awed amazement, they began to move. Blue feet hit the floor, pale peach arms reached out...and then they were a knot of arms and tears and love and whispers - "I'm sorry," and "No, no..." and "I love you..._so_ much."

Minion backed away, avoiding the scraps of paper and squeaky spots on the floor. He was sure nothing...untoward would happen (Megamind was a villain, but he was a _gentleman_ villain; besides, they were both exhausted), but the two would appreciate their privacy.

Minion settled down in the hallway outside the doorway, out of sight of the occupants in the room. All else would wait.

Everything was all right.

* * *

><p>Copacetic: very satisfactory<p> 


	2. Profligacy

Roxanne Ritchi eased carefully into the waking world. The first thing she notice was what seemed to be some sort of bag over her head that smelled like week-old rotten eggs. A quick wriggle told her that she was tied hand and foot and...slung over something? She quickly took stock of her surroundings, her brain still foggy from...well, she couldn't remember...

No, wait. She'd been getting ready for her second interview with Metro Man. Her first interview had gone so well, after all; the local superhero had been charming and answered all her questions. When she'd tried to thank him for the interview, he had merely flashed her a grin and spouted off something about justice and always being there for the citizens of Metro City. Then he'd kissed her cheek.

To her surprise, that wasn't what impressed her colleagues back at the station; no, they were shocked that Metro Man had actually remembered her name throughout the entire interview. Apparently, Metro City's defender was notorious for being really, really bad with names.

It was something Roxanne hadn't thought of before; she'd watched Metro City news in preparation for the job, certainly, but most of the Metro Man footage came from his encounters with Megamind. For Metro Man to agree to an interview at all was a rare thing, and it had come as a shock that the station was willing to let her - the junior reporter, the newbie, the college kid - anywhere near such a huge story. And she'd nailed it. Even Megamind showing up soon after and nearly stepping on the news van with his latest battle robot couldn't ruin her day.

Megamind...something was fishy about this...

She remembered getting dressed, grabbing her purse/makeup bag, and leaving her apartment building. She remembered hopping on her usual bus, and getting out at the stop a block away from the station. Then...nothing.

Whatever she was draped over, she noticed, was bouncing slightly. She assumed it was walking. Her pulse quickened. The logical conclusion was that she had been kidnapped, and there was only one master villain in Metro City. But why _her?_ Why a reporter?

With a jarring bump, Roxanne was thrown onto a hard chair of some kind. It was a relief, really; the blood wasn't rushing to her head anymore. The smell from the bag, though, seemed even worse.

Abruptly, she panicked. What was she thinking? Why did the smell matter, when she'd just been kidnapped by THE city supervillain? She really, really hoped Metro Man was as fast and as strong as he claimed. Would he notice if she didn't show up for the interview? Would her the station send someone else in her place? Was being kidnapped grounds for firing someone?

Something in the back of her mind (the cool and calculated reporter part, probably) pointed out that this wasn't exactly Megamind's MO. Sure, he called Metro Man out for confrontations on an almost weekly basis. Sure, he caused hundreds of thousands of property damage every year. And sure, he would occasionally hold buildings of people hostage in an effort to take over the city. But...kidnapping?

The only reason Roxanne didn't flinch at the low cackle that suddenly echoed around her was because she had already tensed to try to break her ropes. (She'd learned how to break plastic ties in her college self-defence class; she hoped it would work with ropes as well...though she doubted it.)

"Miss Ritchie," the voice boomed, "We meet again!"

The bag was whipped off Roxanne's head dramatically, mussing her hair. After a confused moment of trying to get the hair out of her eyes (and breathing in gulps of fresh air), she glanced around. The room she was in was a mess of blinking lights and dials, whirring wheels, and large monitors haphazardly patched together showing different parts of the city. The ceiling was higher than she could comfortably see, yet the space she was in was very small. She guessed it was an old warehouse, but something about her surroundings seemed oddly like an old-fashioned movie set...like everything was set up in a contained environment trying to give the illusion of space.

"AHEM!"

Turning her eyes back down towards the voice, she had to bite back a smile. Megamind, self-proclaimed Criminal Genious and Master of All Villainy, looked like a toddler about to stomp his feet. His eyebrows were scrunched together over too-big, bright green eyes; his mouth was drawn down into a pout; his arms were crossed defensively and long, blue fingers were tapping one arm. After a moment, his expression melted back into a villainous grin.

The arms stayed crossed. Roxanne pondered the psychology of that...then pushed the thought away.

"Miss Ritchie, we meet again!"

"Um..." _...Again?_

"Minion!" Roxanne followed Megamind's glance to a black curtain in a corner that was swaying ominously. "The lever!"

"MPH!" squawked the curtain. Megamind waited for a moment, tapping his boots (they were looking a little scuffed, Roxanne noticed; it was a contrast to his normal appearance) before diving behind the curtain himself. There was a brief scuffle, then a disco ball dropped abruptly from the ceiling and the floor opened to reveal a tank full of alligators. "Highway to Hell" blasted from all corners Roxanne was torn between amusement and terror - was _this _the city's villain? Was _this _the guy even Metro Man couldn't keep behind bars for more than a month at a time?

By the time she looked up, Megamind had reappeared. He was now wearing a dramatic black cape with a ridiculously high collar, much like the ones he wore in his battles with Metro Man; Roxanne hadn't noticed it was missing. She mentally kicked herself. What kind of a reporter was she?

A flash of panic flitted through Megamind's eyes as they darted to something just behind and to the right of his captive. Roxanne thought it was Metro Man for a moment...but when had Metro Man ever made a quiet entrance? The next instant a circular saw on a robotic arm swung around quickly and_ just_ missed her head. She bit her lip to keep from screaming.

She didn't even notice Megamind's speech on calling her 'caped boyfriend' that first kidnapping, she was so terrified of having her head taken off by the gleaming metal blade that kept creeping closer and closer to her neck. Metro Man showed up, of course, and ripped the thing away from her. Megamind went to jail.

Roxanne, against her better judgement, visited him two days later.

The station didn't _make _her go, per se, but the security footage of the station's newest reporter (rumored to be Metro Man's friend, maybe even more) being knocked unconscious by some sort of chemical spray and being pulled into a nondescript black car had boosted the station's ratings through the roof. It had been strongly hinted by multiple people - including her boss, her lawyer, and a psychiatrist she'd seen on her day off - that a confrontation with her kidnapper would do her good. And oh, by the way, an interview was the perfect excuse to have that confrontation. Roxanne suspected a conspiracy.

The prison guards hadn't told Megamind who his visitor was, that much was obvious. They had arranged for some sort of high-security visiting room, with one way glass and a voice disguiser for Roxanne. Megamind looked a lot different in the baggy orange prison suit. There was something calmer about him, and perhaps a little nervous.

"He's always like this after a fight," said the warden, who accompanied Roxanne. Word on the street was that this was the man who knew Megamind best. Despite being perpetually outwitted by the blue supervillain, he seemed to regard him with a familiarity that bordered on fondness. He'd even apologized on Megamind's behalf for the kidnapping, which Roxanne thought was a bit odd.

At first, Roxanne got a sort of vindictive glee out of questioning Megamind using the voice of a thirty-something man. Megamind was obviously confused, and with good reason; the station didn't have any male reporters of that age at the moment. It wasn't until she brought up the details of the kidnapping that he reacted.

He shifted in his chair. Guiltily.

He covered it right up, of course, with a wicked smile and an overdose of bravado that made Roxanne wonder if she'd even seen his flinch at all. When the interview was over, he'd waved a hand lazily, thanked her by name (which gave her nightmares that night, and caused the warden to apologize again for the perceived lack of security) and told her he'd be seeing her soon.

Megamind broke back out a week and a half later, and kidnapped Roxanne on her lunch break. Extremely ticked off at not being able to finish her Caesar Salad, she'd yelled at him for a full ten minutes. It wasn't until she'd calmed down that Megamind emerged from his corner of the warehouse (a new one, this time, though decorated in much the same way as the first) and initiated a ridiculous plan involving several supposed bombs planted in various public areas of the city. They wound up being smoke bombs. Exactly one person was harmed: an 83-year-old woman with a dust allergy was hospitalized overnight, more as a precaution than anything else.

It wasn't until after Metro Man rescued her yet again that Roxanne noticed the lack of sharp, pointy objects in close proximity to her. In fact, they didn't reappear at all that first year, and by the time he started using them again she'd become used to the fact that Megamind - for all his posturing - would never hurt a fly. Or a reporter.

* * *

><p>Profligacy: reckless extravagance<p> 


	3. Viscid

Roxanne dragged herself up the steps to the Lair proper; the elevator was broken. Again. For the home and workshop of a famous inventor, the Lair seemed to lack working appliances with surprising regularity.

Megamind had probably redirected the power supply or something.

Really, Roxanne mused, all she wanted was to have a quiet home-cooked dinner with her boyfriend. That looked more and more unlikely the farther she went into the Lair. Bits of machinery were laying about the large room that passed for the main living space, still sparking and twitching. The sound of something whirring and squealing came from one of the labs, punctuated by Megamind and Minion calling to each other over the noise.

By the time she found her boyfriend, the machines were powering down. He stood in the center of the room, dramatically lit by a single spotlight, next to a low table. Minion lurked near a control panel, monitoring a series of gauges. Along the walls sat various contraptions she couldn't even begin to comprehend. Megamind had been a hero for nearly a year now, but the Lair's evil heritage still shone through clearly sometimes.

"Roxanne!" He yelped, nearly knocking over a petri dish of something white and gooey-looking in his haste to get to her.

Roxanne laughed and returned his hug. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything. You sounded busy when I _walked_ up."

Megamind looked puzzled for a moment before his eyes widened in realization. "The elevator! Minion..."

"Re-routing power back to primary Lair functions, sir."

"Thank you," Roxanne called, with a pointed look at her boyfriend. He grumbled good-naturedly and moved back to his table.

"Want to see?"

"Sure." She moved closer to look at the petri dish, still not sure why Megamind seemed so proud of it.

"This is a breakthrough in the ad-heh-seeve arts! A marvel of modern al-cheh-mee! It's going to revoloo-tin-ize science!"

"Um...honey? What _is _it?"

"I call it: Miniononium!"

It was sweet, Roxanne reflected, that he had named his...whatever it was...after his best friend. A little weird and definitely geeky, but sweet. "So...what does it do?"

Megamind deflated just a little, and Roxanne tried not to take offense. It was hard for the blue hero to remember sometimes that not everyone had his talent with tinkering. "It's a semipermanent ad-heh-seeve."

"Adhesive, dear."

"Exactly! Right now it is in its viscous state." To demonstrate, he dipped two gloved fingers into the white goo. "But when it is exposed to direct sunlight..." Right on cue, Minion pulled a lever. A window appeared in the roof of the lab, casting a long beam of light from the setting sun across the lab. Megamind moved his hand into the sunbeam. Within a few seconds, the glue had turned clear. "...It hardens! See?" He tried to move his fingers.

"Ah."

"Yes! And when you take it _out_ of sunlight..." He did just that. He, Roxanne, and Minion all peered eagerly at the still-clear substance on his glove.

Nothing happened.

"Um, Sir...?"

"_ARGH!_"

Roxanne chuckled and felt for the buckle of Megamind's work glove. "Well, lesson learned then. Let's go eat dinner..."

"Dinner? How can you think of eating at a time like this? Minion!"

"...Sir?"

"Boot up the chemical mixificator complex!"

And just like that, Roxanne was forgotten. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and headed to the kitchen to make herself a sandwich, still smiling. Life with Megamind was never boring.

* * *

><p>Viscid: having a glutinous consistency; sticky; adhesive<p> 


End file.
